Page 6 of One Final Target

Besides, Jodie hated funerals. More so now.

“Oh, I remember. Your patrol car caught fire and your partner didn’t make it.”

“Your partner didn’t make it.”

Sam kept his expression blank, surprised at how those last five words could still pierce him so completely. He’d worked his body back into shape physically, but he couldn’t stop the way his mind jolted when images of the crash blasted through his consciousness every time the accident was mentioned. Would those images ever stop?

“Yep, I’m the guy who survived.”

Genuine sorrow crossed her features. “I know what it feels like to survive.”

Sam cleared his throat, struck by her statement,What it feels like to survive. He’d learned survival wasn’t always all it was cracked up to be. It was painful, dreadful, shameful, excruciating—and he’d only lost one partner. Jodie King had lost four. The impact of that realization hit Sam, shaking him to the core.

Her entire team was gone. How did she still stand? He noticed the haunted eyes and could almost feel the pain radiating from her. Could she do the same with him? Did they share a burden of grief?

Don’t go there.

“Of course you do,” he said, looking down the road in the direction the dispatched units would come. He needed to talk. Silence would make him think, remember.

“I was an explosives technician in the Army and on the sheriff’s bomb squad before the accident. Since this involved an IED, they assigned me to Detective Smiley. I’ll do my very best to find Hayes, if he is indeed the man responsible for this.”

An odd expression crossed her features—pain, Sam thought—but then it was gone, and she looked away, eyes raking the blackened foundation. King was a shell of the image he’d seen in photographs. She was thin, almost gaunt, and the darkness under her eyes was unmistakable.

“I wouldn’t think there’s much left here for you to investigate. The Feds don’t think so anymore. They put Hayes on the most wanted list and then left the cleanup to Detective Smiley.” Bitterness dripped from the last sentence like acid.

“It’s still open in our shop. Smiley’s still searching. But in a way, you’re right. I’ve sifted through all the reports already written. Thiswas my first chance to get up here and view the scene. I like to try and put myself in the bad guy’s shoes. Sometimes the scene helps me visualize. What were you doing here?”

She shook her head. “A friend wants to do a memorial planting. I planned on checking out the site he picked. It’s further up the highway.” A half shrug. “It’s my first time back since...” Her eyes surveyed the foundation.

Sam could see her struggle; he recognized his own struggle in her eyes. Driving past the spot on the freeway where Rick died... well, it was never easy. Rick’s family had erected a temporary memorial to him near the spot. The county let it stay, and now Rick’s dad had a petition going to make it permanent. To Sam, seeing the memorial was like lemon juice on an open cut.

“I get it,” he said, hoping to unstick her mind from three months ago. “I’d planned on visiting a friend who lives in Arrowbear and thought I’d stop here first.”

He followed her gaze even as his thoughts tumbled back to the night of his crash like water tumbling down a waterfall.

He’d been out of the car when the drunk struck. He and Rick had stopped to help at the scene of an earlier accident. The fire department and paramedics hadn’t arrived but were on their way. While Sam dealt with the people involved in the first crash on the shoulder of the freeway, Rick sat in the passenger seat of the patrol car running the license plates of the vehicles. His head was down, reading the computer screen, when the drunk slammed into the car at sixty-five miles an hour without any braking. Momentum from the crash carried the wreck forward and barely missed Sam and the couple he was talking to.

Fire erupted almost immediately. Sam tried with all his might to pull Rick from the wreckage, ignoring his own burning flesh,until the firefighters dragged him away. His best efforts weren’t enough to save his partner and best friend.

“You have to forgive yourself.”Doc Roe’s words came back to him.“Guilt is a destructive emotion, Sam. It weighs on you—I can tell.”

Sam could agree with Doc Roe on that point. Sometimes the guilt pressed so hard he couldn’t breathe. At this moment though, he could admit there was truth in the statementTime heals all wounds. Still, time moved at a snail’s pace when it came to healing.

Through the experience of his own grief journey, he could see that King was not nearly as far along as he was. Sighing, he prayed this shooting would not set her back as he returned his attention to the here and now.Lord, if there is a way for me to help her, show me.

He switched gears to King and her case. Though he’d only recently received the case file, he had it memorized.

“The guy who set this device three months ago was a pro. It wasn’t a garage hobby special; it was professional. He wanted maximum damage.”

King nodded. “The why is the issue I’m still grappling with. Hayes had three narcotics warrants. According to the Feds, the IED was overkill. Hayes is an opportunistic criminal, not a planner.”

Just then a highway patrol vehicle came screaming up the drive. Sam started for the driver’s window, King on his heels.

The officer held a hand up as he listened to a transmission on the radio. Sam only caught a couple of words.

When it finished, the officer turned toward him. “Everyone okay here?”

“We’re good,” Sam said.

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